Morgada materialized in her chamber and let out an uncharacteristic gasp at what she found. Atolgus and Wargroch lay on the floor of the chamber, obviously slain in battle. The female Titan gritted her teeth at the sight then noticed more bodies beyond the hole that someone had blasted in the wall leading to the corridor. There were several guards beyond, all lying as if asleep, yet certainly dead. The smell of blood, generally intoxicating to her, instead repelled the sorceress.
“Falstoch is no more.”
She spun to find Safrag standing behind her. “Great one! What do you mean about Falstoch?”
The lead Titan, the Fire Rose nestled in the crook of his arm like a beloved infant, casually pointed to a moist spot on the floor. “That’s all that remains of Falstoch, who was most loyal. I learned of his death from the guards who, failing their initial duties out of misplaced loyalty, I killed a moment ago.”
Morgada could not refrain from shivering. “But how? What happened here?”
“The mongrel and his pet wizard. How else, dear Morgada?”
“We must avenge Falstoch!” she quickly responded. “Let me be the one to deal the fatal blow.”
Safrag shook his head. He looked to the Fire Rose. “Falstoch’s death is a minor note. What matters more is that I sense the game has reached its end. He’s come for what belongs to me, fool that he is.”
“Golgren is here?”
The lead Titan sneered. “I’ve only just realized that the great mongrel himself is only a tool! No, Morgada, I mean the master of the winged watchers! He has come! Shall we go to meet him, you and I?”
She immediately moved to join him, standing on the side where he held the Fire Rose. “I am honored to serve.”
“Yes, you should be.”
In the blink of an eye, their surroundings changed. They were still in Dai Ushran yet outside-indeed, atop-the palace.
And moreover, so were the rest of the Titans, every one of them.
One bowed, an act that the rest quickly imitated. “We have come at your summons, Safrag, though you now leave the realm’s borders filled with marching Uruv Suurt, mounted humans, and hundreds of foul gargoyles.”
“My lord-” Morgada began, confused. “Hush,” Safrag quietly ordered her. To the other Titans, he said, “Let the fools savor their moment of triumph. They won’t have it for long. Besides, we are here on a far more important mission than a matter of a few insects with swords and claws.”
He turned to Morgada and, to her surprise, handed her the Fire Rose.
The other sorcerers looked at one another in surprise and, for some, consternation. All coveted the artifact for their own purposes, and all had considered ways by which they might convince Safrag to let them use it, if only for a brief time. But he had given it to Morgada as if it were nothing.
Her face lit up. “My lord! I–I am honored! Truly, I didn’t think myself worthy of this!”
“No one else is more worthy of this, dear Morgada,” he replied with a fatherly smile. “Come now! Isn’t there something you wanted to do with it?”
Morgada’s expression was caught between anticipation and confusion. “What-why, of course-yes!”
“Then do as you please.”
With those words, a change came over the female Titan. Gone were all traces of worship for Safrag. Instead, Morgada leered at him. Those sorcerers who could see her face muttered among themselves and did their best to edge away from Safrag.
A sudden wind whipped up, shoving the reluctant spellcasters back to where they had been standing. Still seemingly ignorant of the change coming over Morgada, Safrag politely commanded, “Remain in your places, all of you.”
“Yes,” interjected Morgada, both hands tightly holding her prize. “It’ll make it easier to get rid of you all!”
Before the other Titans could react to her declaration, Safrag shook his head in mock sadness. “Dear Morgada, you made the wrong choice.”
The Fire Rose flared but not as it ever had done previously. A black radiance spread from the artifact to Morgada’s fingers. She gasped and tried to let go but could not. The female Titan’s face twisted from triumph to fear.
“Did you think me so befuddled by your beauty that I’d stay ignorant of your plans of betrayal?” Safrag grimly asked her. “If there is one thing I’ll not tolerate, it’s betrayal. I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, but you chose to stay aligned with the master of the gargoyles.”
“You-you could not have known!” Morgada’s arms and much of her upper torso were bathed in the black radiance. Despite her legs being free, still, she did not move … or perhaps could not.
“I am Safrag. I always know. Unlike Dauroth, I did not accept the dreams and ambitions suddenly thrust upon me as divine! Every urge, every gift, bears a price. I discovered that price the moment the first of the winged watchers appeared, and I knew then that your unique presence could hardly be a coincidence any more than some of the advantages that came my way.”
Morgada could no longer respond, for her entire body was encased in the radiance. Only her frightened, golden eyes remained visible.
The Fire Rose transformed, suddenly becoming a cylindrical tube made of some black, gleaming metal.
Safrag held up his hand. In it materialized yet another Fire Rose. “The true one. Did you think I would ever let someone else even touch it?” The lead Titan’s eyes blazed. “Anyone?”
If that last comment disturbed the other sorcerers, none dared show their true emotions. All had only to gaze at Morgada to see what could befall them.
“The spell was forged with the Fire Rose, so you should be honored for that much, dear Morgada. Set to unleash if you proved your loyalty to any other but me. I am fair, after all.”
He held the Fire Rose toward her. The energies within swirled furiously.
The black cylinder crumbled to dust. Morgada’s hands followed suit. The female Titan watched in silent horror as her arms also turned to ash. The dread spell overtook her body, her legs, her head.
Morgada managed a faltering gasp just before she collapsed into a pile of black dust. The pile of ash then swirled around, re-forming.
In her place stood a lifelike onyx statue of Safrag.
“You honor me with your presence,” he remarked with a chuckle.
But as Safrag laughed at Morgada’s folly, a sound like roiling thunder caused the Titans to look up. However, it was not thunder; rather, it was the beating of countless wings.
The third and largest of Xiryn’s flocks had been unleashed over the capital.
Grinning, Safrag spread his arms as if welcoming the creatures. The Fire Rose burned brightly.
“It is time to put my empire in order!” he shouted not only to the other sorcerers, but also to the gargoyles, even. “It is time, don’t you agree, oh Grand Khan?”
And Golgren, who materialized but a short distance behind him, bared his teeth and responded, “Yes, sorcerer. I agree.”
Frustration mounting, Stefan urged the elves forward. The refugees were moving as fast as they could, but that was not what piqued the Solamnic.
“I should be there,” he muttered to himself as he paused to watch the column progress. “I should be there.”
“A battle is won on many fronts,” commented someone next to him.
The cleric did not show any surprise. He had become used to Kiri-Jolith’s abrupt appearances. “So I understand, my lord, but I yearn to be there to give my all! Rather me than her! What good is Idaria in this situation?”
The bison-headed god went unnoticed by the elves. Like other deities, Kiri-Jolith could choose at whim who did and who did not see or hear him. “She may be doing the most good of all. A battle is won on many fronts, and many of those fronts do not involve swords and axes. Thoughts and emotions are also powerful tools and ones that even the gods cannot ultimately control.”